Home
by RamblingPug
Summary: 'All he had wanted was to see her, honestly, hold her close to him and tell her how much he misses her when he's away and give her the damn Christmas present. He had definitely not wanted to run into her ex-boyfriend, or see the both of them chatting rather happily, or see pictures of them -' Post-manga. Mazume, oneshot, written for Mazume week. WARNING : shameless smut inside.


**Home**

**Disclaimer : I obviously don't own HnR. These characters belong solely to the lovely Yamamori-Sensei.**

**A/N : So I'm posting this for Mamura's day (Mazume week day 3) because I tried to write this in his perspective. I hope you like it. **

The windows have fogged up, the roads covered deep in snow, the trees have shed their leaves and all-in-all, Mamura has never liked the bleak and sombre look of winter. But this year, with Christmas fast approaching, he's just a _little _bit excited because it means Winter break is finally starting and he gets to go home.

Home encompasses a lot of things for him, his father's latest cooking disaster, his little brother's constant pestering, all small things he hadn't even realized he was so attached to, till he had actually left for Kyoto.

But most importantly, to Mamura, home is where Suzume is.

..

He pushes open the door to her Uncle's restaurant, knowing that it's a weekday and she will be here without fail. College students will never shirk away from an opportunity to earn a few extra bucks, and for Suzume there was no better part-time work than fraternizing with food.

As expected, he spots her bouncing ponytail – had it grown longer? – at once, but she hasn't noticed him, busy as she is, talking animatedly with a customer. Yukichi, on the other hand sees him immediately, eyes trained to observe each incoming guest, and waves at him heartily. "Suzume," he starts to yell, but Mamura gestures to him to keep quiet, wanting to surprise her himself.

He watches her nodding at the same customer, scribbling down his order and flashing him a big smile and he strains his eyes closer, wondering who the hell she was being so awfully friendly with.

"Sure thing, Sensei," he hears her say as he gets closer and he feels like he's swallowed something bitter, old forgotten insecurities sweeping over him like the cold. Mamura is well aware that his train of thought is irrational and unnecessary, but the first thing he thinks of is just how incredibly unfair it is, that he gets to see her all of _once _in two whole months, and that jerk, the very same one who had left her heart in shambles, gets to make her smile whenever he wants.

It's probably just a testosterone rush, he thinks, trying to justify his next completely unanticipated move, because he's caught up to Suzume in one quick stride, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her waist, earning him a surprised squeak in return.

"Eh?!" she exclaims, in true Suzume fashion, always a little too slow in comprehending the situation. When she finally realizes, she smiles, leaning into his embrace because she should've known, he still smells the same, like snowdrops bathed in soap.

In the end it doesn't really matter if this was just a petty move to make a point, because when he feels the warmth of her body radiating into his, he is overwhelmed by just how much he misses this, this precious closeness that he wishes he could bottle up and carry with him when he leaves.

"Mamura," she cries, wriggling out of his grasp in order to get a better look at him, "You said you wouldn't be here till Saturday!"

He tries to ignore the unpleasant thought that accompanies the sudden lack of proximity, that maybe she didn't _want _him here so early and notices her staring at his bags questioningly.

"I, uh, I was just getting back from the station and I wanted to surprise you, so…" he trails off, feeling kind of stupid, because he was in such a hurry to see her, to give her the Christmas present he had picked up for her, that he hadn't even thought of going home and washing up before coming to meet her.

_Maybe she didn't need any Christmas presents from you, _comes the uncharitable voice of the little green eyed monster that has now gotten comfortable on his shoulder and he _wants _to squish it, but he just can't, really, its words are too forceful to be ignored.

But seeing Suzume looking so delighted, he can't help but blush a little, a small smile forming at his lips when she laces her fingers with his and says, "Wait upstairs, I'll be there in a minute."

He tries his level best not to let his unreasonable thoughts show when Shishio greets him politely, enquiring as to how his studies are going and whether he's adjusted to life in Kyoto, toning down his glares from blaringly hostile to just a tad unfriendly and cold, distant replies.

In truth, he is anything but cold, he is hot and seething inside, a vexing sentiment that bubbles up within him whenever he sees his former teacher.

Shishio had shattered her heart and left her too dazed to even look for the pieces, but what bothered Mamura the most was that it was Suzume who had so readily given it to him.

..

Her room is messy, bed unmade, probably having woken up barely in time to get to college. He chuckled to himself, he knew the drill with her, she could never be on time for anything. He looked around and saw that there were some new additions to her room since the last time he visited, a paper mache model of the penguin he had once bought her, a yoga ball – "Yoga increases flexibility, Mamura," she had informed him over the phone, and the definitive mischievous tone of her voice had made him blush at least ten different shades of red because surely he wasn't imagining the _practical _implementations of flexibility – and a bulletin board which was ostensibly helping her _organize _herself better.

There were about a dozen pictures cut haphazardly and pinned onto it, possibly for a collage she's planning to make, he guesses, with different poses of her with the scuba diving club, a couple of old school photos where his face was too red from holding her hand, a proud victory pose when their restaurant had won an award for "Best Sushi" and… a photo of her and her Uncle. And Shishio, standing right next to her.

Despairingly, he wonders why he has to suffer so much, it's his first day back home for God's sake, he doesn't want to grapple with these infuriating bouts of jealousy – there's no point pretending it's anything else – not yet, at least.

All he had wanted was to see her, honestly, hold her close to him and tell her how much he misses her when he's away and give her the damn Christmas present. He had definitely _not _wanted to run into her ex-boyfriend, or see the both of them chatting rather happily, _or _see pictures of them –

Soft arms wrap around him, cutting off his venomous train of thought, filling his nostrils with the familiar scent of spices and shampoo. Before he knows it, he's staring into bright, wide, pools of baby blue, and he almost forgets.

"Hey, you," she says softly, and having gotten past the stage of awkward fumbling and beating around the bush around more than a year ago, she doesn't waste any time, leaning up to kiss him, welcoming him back to the place where he truly belongs.

The opportunity to kiss her has become so rare that it is _criminal _to waste it, but he can't help it, he can't kiss her back, he can't bite back the sourness of his thoughts anymore, he just has to know. She steps away from him a moment later and he can't help but feel a little guilty because it's his fault that there's a slightly hurt, doubtful look spread across her innocent features.

He takes a deep breath, averting his eyes to the picture.

"Do you see him often?"

There. It's out in the open. All his silly, unfounded fears, strengthened by the strain of distance and all the silent questions along with it.

_Does he come around here a lot? _

_Do you spend a lot of time with him?_

_Is he the one making you smile these days?_

He's aware that it's baseless, and it's wrong for him to think all of this, and he _trusts _Suzume, he really does, but…

She closes her eyes and sighs audibly. His question is quiet, his gaze unreadable and he hasn't specified who the "he" in his words was, but Suzume isn't stupid, she can read Mamura like an open book.

"Mamura," she says, totally deadpan, "Go sit on the bed."

"Huh?! What the hell for?"

She pushes him towards the bed, blue bed sheets with Shark print that isn't scary _at all_, ordering him to move to the middle.

She waits till he has moved into a position that is exactly at the centre, and gives him a thumbs up. "Good, close your eyes now."

He facepalms, clearly not having understood the point of this inane exercise, and does what she says, with a small huff. "You still haven't answered my question."

She doesn't say anything but he can hear the soft noise of mattress springs creaking and he knows she's up to something. It's clear what, when moments later she's seated in his lap, hands around his neck, and he can _feel _her words, the soft murmur tickling the sensitive skin on his earlobe. "You really want to know?"

He knows what she's doing, and it's a downright shameless tactic to distract him.

But it's _working. _

_No_, he decides, he doesn't need to know, he doesn't _care_, especially when her mouth is moving against his, soothing and insistent, draining his petty jealousy out of him, consuming and appeasing it with light flicks of her tongue.

"He comes around every Wednesday," she says, and he's angry, irritated that she would interrupt the kiss to talk about inconsequential things – so what if he had been the one to ask? – there were more important things to do, and he proceeds to do exactly that, kissing her back with an intensity that startles her, Mamura is rarely forceful, and he uses this to his advantage, catching her wrist and jerking her down on top of him.

She gasps and he meets her mouth again, the kiss open mouthed and hungry, because he's waited far too long to have her in his arms like this.

"Mmm," she breaks away slightly, smiling, "Shouldn't you go say hello to your Dad and Daichi?"

He tugs on her t-shirt, full sleeved and covering far too much of her, pulling her back down on him so she can feel his hardness as he looks at her, embarrassed, but unguarded. When he speaks, his voice is low, stripped of everything but burning need. "Don't make me say everything, idiot."

_I missed you._

When she hears those words she can't help but giggle, even though it makes the heated atmosphere dissolve a little, because those were the same words he had told her when they had first started dating.

She kisses him again, through her giggles, undoing the buttons on his shirt quickly, and even though they've done this only a few times before, Suzume has shown quite a talent for undressing Mamura.

She traces her fingers along the hard lines if his body, her fingers small and cold against his warm skin and his breath hitches. She likes to look at him, shamelessly ogling his magnificent body when he's shirtless but as much as it does things to his ego, he isn't in the mood for that today, he wants _her_ naked and fast.

He tugs her shirt off of her, leaning forward to kiss her neck and she groans when his teeth graze the sensitive spot near her collarbone, grinding down on him, hard and demanding_._

His body is oblivious to the mental anguish that he is going through because even though his hips are pressing up against hers, eager for more friction he's just realized he's missing something very important.

He tears his lips away from her passionate kisses and _swears, _because his luck _cannot _be worse.

"Suzume," he says breathlessly, "I-I don't have any…" He's interrupted by another scorching kiss, this time pulling his hands upwards – she seems to have discarded her bra when his attention was occupied elsewhere – and he gives in, his hands roaming her breasts, stopping to thumb her nipples roughly and she moans, arching against him.

He's aware that with every motion of her hips, he is so much closer to making an absolute mess of himself but he doesn't stop, now mimicking his earlier actions with his tongue, reaching down and circling her nipple, nipping ever so slightly and revelling in her tiny gasping noises that were music to his ears. He looked up at her, head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure and he yanks at her ponytail, freeing her long chestnut locks from her hair tie, watching it spill on to her breasts.

Her moans of "Mamur-Ah!", the last syllable an embarrassingly high pitched squeak that is torn from her as he envelopes her nipple in his mouth, is more than enough for him, but her hands slip downwards into his jeans and it takes everything to stop her when she brushes against him, hard and throbbing under her exploring fingers.

"Suzume," his voice is weak now, "I don't have a condom."

It takes a moment for her to comprehend his words, arousal doing nothing to improve the speed of her brain functioning, and she literally clambers off of him, reaching for the bed side drawer. "I think I have one left from last time," she mumbles, stretching to retrieve it and he takes this opportunity to unzip her skirt, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her hip.

She grabs the foil packet in a flash, quivering under the promise of that kiss and hands it to him. He just shakes his head and before she realizes what's happening, she's on her back and all she can register is that Mamura has shucked off his pants and is now looking at her, his eyes dark crimson and hooded, and clad in nothing but an embarrassing excuse for panties, she can't help but feel the initial shyness return to her.

He's urging her legs open with rough, bruising kisses along the inside of her thighs and she groans, thrusting the foil packet at him, eyes begging him to just take her and put her out of her despair.

"Not yet," he rasps, kissing the damp spot that had formed on her panties and she almost sobs, her desperation now glaringly obvious.

Within seconds her panties have disintegrated, the material far too flimsy to withstand Mamura's decadent impatience for her. He slips a finger in, tracing slow, languid circles in and out of her and she whines. "Don't tease…"

If she thought that was too much, she was nowhere near prepared when he brought his mouth down _there _and - oh, why hadn't he ever done this before?

She is reduced to an incoherent mess of whimpers, squirming beneath the assault of his tongue, eager and insistent inside her.

He's come to realize that this is Suzume's weakness as she unconsciously fists a hand in his hair and presses him against her, craving more contact. He takes advantage of this ruthlessly, rubbing against her and ravaging her with his tongue until she submits to him loudly, her body wracked with waves of pleasure.

"Mamura," she says, her voice shaky but she _has _to tell him just how amazing that was –

"My turn," he whispers hoarsely and he slips on the condom, unable to wait even a moment longer, thrusting into her, hard and deep. She cries out, overwhelmed by just how amazingly _good _he feels, hot and full inside her and she squeezes her walls, experimentally.

"Shit," he swears, because they might have done this before, and he might have replayed it a million times in his head, but none if it compares to just how _exquisite _she is, scorching and tight around him and he is _this _close to losing it.

He shifts his weight, holding on to her hips and driving into her thoroughly, kissing away her moans for him to go faster, _harder_.

She doesn't need to _say _it because that is his sole mission as he ventures deeper into her, hammering into her, crazy with need, his name nothing more than a ruined whimper on her lips.

He increases his rhythm, pounding into her as he brings her to another climax and this time she drags him down with her, spiralling into the white dimension of pleasure together.

He collapses on top of her, careful not to hurt her and pulls out of her gingerly, exhausted and spent. "I missed you," she murmurs, her breathing starting to even out.

He kisses her in reply, a slight apology because he should have just told her that sooner, that missing her has become his full-time occupation, instead of going into a jealous rage – even though it did have rather _satisfying _consequences.

..

"Mamura."

He hears the soft voice calling out to him, and certain that it is a dream, he ignores it, hugging his pillow tighter.

"Mamura," he hears again and he swears his pillow just _nudged _him and he's pretty sure pillows aren't supposed to do that.

He grumbles awake, and it isn't till he's aware of how warm and curved this _pillow _really is that his eyes flash open in realization. His legs are entangled in a pair of other, decidedly _non-_pillowy legs and warm, blue eyes are smiling down at him.

"Crap," he says, eloquently and it's just dawned on him that despite having spent the night without the consent of any adult, he has, for the first time, actually had the pleasure of _sleeping _with his girlfriend. And it's an oddly pleasing thought.

So he flops back on the pillows and he pulls her down with him, nuzzling against her affectionately. She laughs, a sweet, ringing sound that he's certain he could get used to and says, "You're fun in the mornings."

"I can be a lot more fun than this," he boasts, pinning her down and kissing her, careful not to let morning breath ruin the mood. She gasps when he realizes his morning wood is pressing into her unashamedly and she can do little to prevent the faint trickle of arousal that sweeps through her body.

"It's still 5 a.m, you know," she protests weakly, "if you sneak out now, you can avoid Uncle."

He pushes her protesting hands away and proceeds to suckle her collarbone.

"Don't interrupt me. I will deal with the consequences," he says, his tone flat, too occupied with her body to even care.

Deep down she is thrilled to be with him in the early hours of the morning – and is he being _cute? – _but as his kisses venture downward, she can't help but panic a little.

"I'm out of condoms," she mumbles, and _this _grabs his attention, shooting her with an irritated glare as if it were her responsibility to stock up on protection when her boyfriend didn't even live in the same city.

His irritation turns into a look of abject disappointment and she can't help but feel it too, because the excitement of his kisses had reached all the way down, in between her legs.

"I have an idea," she says, leaning over him, her twinkling gaze trailing down his navel to the hard, outline barely covered by his boxers.

She muffles his question with a loving kiss, her hands reaching into his shorts, small, inexperienced fingers splaying out to touch him.

"What…?" he mumbles, incoherently, too aroused by her treatment of his cock as a plaything, to make sense.

With a wave of determination, she pulls at the his boxers, yanking them down to his feet, her breathing going dangerously uneven at the sight of him flushed and slick in front of her.

"Can I. Um," she swallows. "Go down on you?" she finishes, her words squeezed together in a single embarrassed syllable.

His eyes widen, pupils so dark with just the thought of it that his nod is almost imperceptible in response.

She nods back, eyes anxious because how was she supposed to take _all of that _in her mouth?

She closed a gentle fist around him and pumped a few times experimentally, watching his breathing hitch, a self-conscious scarlet hue spreading over his face.

She licks a slow, deliberate trail from the base along the nerve swirling against the pink head and she can hear him groan, so that must mean she's doing _something _right.

Tentatively, she takes him in and he gasps. She immediately retracts and looks at him sheepishly. "Did I screw it up?"

"No," he says hoarsely and she's surprised to see him panting, his breaths harsh with such a simple action of hers. "No, God, you were amazing, but, Ah" – her mouth is back on him, stretching to accommodate him – "Just watch the teeth," and he isn't surprised that his voice almost cracks at the end.

She somehow manages to stroke him with her tongue, while he's inside her mouth, sucking hard and coming up for oxygen panting, and his breathing is the worst kind of ragged. He weaves his fingers into her hair, tugging slightly, "I want to see you," he chokes out, because he wants to see her expressions when she's licking him up and sucking on him, wet and messy, because Mamura Daiki, seems to be one hell of a pervert that way.

Blue eyes stare up at him, wide and seemingly innocent and he groans, hips jerking, her name a reverent syllable on his lips, because he knows there's no way he's going to last.

..

Clothes are thrown on in a haste, because the aftermath of explosive physical satiation (a.k.a an orgasm) involves a head-rush of realization, panic and downright _fear _of the very same consequences that Mamura had so proudly claimed he'd deal with, less than an hour ago.

Suzume smiles to herself, no doubt pleased with her new found ability to make her boyfriend fall apart, and he ever so kindly snaps her out of it.

"Okay, you're sure your uncle only wakes up at seven, right? No early morning bathroom breaks or anything?"

"Nope," she says, grinning, rolling her eyes at him, because seriously, what a scaredy-cat.

"Okay," he says, still unsure, flinging his bag onto his shoulders. "Oh, before I go, I wanted to give you this." He reaches into his jeans pocket and fishes out a tiny wrapped box.

She opens it eagerly, a complete sucker for presents of any kind and is thrilled when she sees a pair of earrings small and exquisite, tiny little silver penguins hanging off the end.

"Oh Mamura," she exclaims, pulling him into a hug, "you shouldn't have!"

Except he totally should have, and he's glad he did, because it's always worth it to see her smile like that.

Just as they are about to pull apart, there's a loud knock and both of them are instantly stilled into fear, barely able to breathe. She hides Mamura behind the door, opening it just a peek.

"Uncle!" she chirps, a little too excited for her usual morning behaviour but thankfully he doesn't notice. "Sorry, but I'm not dressed yet."

"Ah, that's okay, Suzume. I just wanted to tell you that I have a few errands to run today and I won't be back till eleven."

"O-okay, Uncle!," she says, hoping he doesn't notice the blatant relief in her voice, "I have class only late in the afternoon today, so I'll open the shop on time if you're late."

"Thanks, kid. I'll be leaving now, I'm running pretty late already." He smiles at her gratefully and waves goodbye, running down the stairs and knocking his head in a hurry.

She shuts the door, feeling slightly guilty that she was lying to him, well at least _hiding _something from him, but she knew he'd flip if he found out what she and Mamura had been up to.

Mamura lets out a slow exhale, slumping in relief against the wall. "Thank God," he says, shaking his head, because for a moment there he had begun writing his Will in his mind. He knew that her uncle was pretty fond of him but he was well aware that he has his scary moments as well.

"I'll leave as soon as he's gone."

Suzume blinks up at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Leaving?" she asks, coyly, winding her arms around her neck, "Who said anything about leaving?"

She leans up on tiptoe, nipping lightly at the nape of his neck.

"You're not leaving anywhere till I'm done with you."

**A/N : Sorry guys, I took Yamamori Sensei's gorgeous, innocent characters and debased them, turning them into a couple of hormonal teenagers. **

**I'M SORRY BUT I JUST ENJOYED IT SO MUCH. :S **

Tell me if you liked it, or talk to me on tumblr, the url of which can be found on my profile. :)


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